The Intersection

A Follow-up Conversation with Jerry Woodbridge

1. What does it actually mean to hear a calling as “communicator” rather than just teacher or writer, and how did that reframing change how you see your work?

What a great question. For many years, I saw myself primarily as a teacher, and later as a writer. But over time, I realized those weren’t separate callings—they were different expressions of one larger calling: to be a communicator.

Communication is the thread that connects everything I do. Whether I’m teaching in a classroom, writing a novel, speaking from a stage, hosting a podcast, or creating media resources, my purpose is the same—to communicate hope, truth, and healing.

That realization gave me tremendous freedom. Instead of asking, “Am I supposed to be a teacher or an author?” I now ask, “What’s the best way to communicate this message to the people who need it?” Sometimes the answer is a book. Sometimes it’s a speech, a podcast, or simply a conversation with one grieving person.

I believe this understanding has helped me embrace what I call the second act of my life. God isn’t changing my calling; He’s expanding the ways I can live it out.

2. What’s the difference between sympathy and empathy, and why does that distinction matter so much for kids processing grief?

In our culture, we do a fairly good job of expressing sympathy. We send condolence cards, flowers, meals, and kind messages. Those gestures matter, and they communicate that we care.

But empathy goes a step further.

I often picture empathy as two friends sitting side by side. The empathetic friend doesn’t rush to fix the pain or explain it away. Instead, they give the grieving child permission to feel whatever they’re feeling.

Sometimes empathy is silent presence. Sometimes it’s listening without judgment. Sometimes it’s a comforting hug. And sometimes it’s simply checking in weeks or months later, when everyone else has moved on but the child’s grief is still very real.

Children don’t need adults who have all the answers. They need adults who are willing to enter their pain without trying to erase it. That’s the difference between sympathy and empathy, and it’s why empathy becomes such a powerful part of healing.

3. Why do children need their own grief narratives instead of just the reassurance adults try to offer them?

Stories have always been one of the most powerful ways children learn. Through books, they build vocabulary, develop empathy, explore new ideas, and discover ways to navigate difficult experiences.

The same is true with grief.

When a grieving child meets a character like Joy or Colton, they discover they’re not the only one asking hard questions or experiencing confusing emotions. They watch someone else struggle, heal, and find hope. That gives them language for feelings they may not yet know how to express.

For children who haven’t experienced a significant loss, these stories build compassion. They help readers understand what a grieving friend may be feeling and how to respond with kindness and empathy.

Grief is one of the few experiences every human being will eventually face, yet it’s one of the least talked about with children. That’s why grief narratives are so important. They prepare children before loss, comfort them during loss, and remind them afterward that while grief changes us, it doesn’t have to define us. Hope and joy can still be part of the story.

Listen to Episode Thirteen of My Friend Writes Podcast

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